Witch Hunter Robin Repercussions
by Rori-san
Summary: [Post-series] Ch. 8 The labyrinth of Walled City unfolds some disturbing events.
1. Default Chapter

**CAUTION:** Contains Spoilers! Read at your own risk. The anime and characters included in this fan-fiction are under the exclusive ownership of their creators and Bandai Entertainment.

**Repercussions: A Witch Hunter Robin Fan-fiction**

"Amon!" a voice called out in an astonished tone. The shout reverberated painfully in his skull and brought him abruptly back to his senses; he turned towards the source. Robin stood a few feet away, eyes wide and mouth agape at what he'd done only moments ago. Her face was marred by soot and sweat. Grunting in reply, Amon shoved a heap of debris to the side and began picking his way through the rubble of Factory's headquarters. He was as surprised as she had been, but he'd always known his powers had been laying dormant, waiting for the right (or the wrong) time to emerge. And he wished to God they hadn't. With an angry yank, he tore off his orbo necklace and tossed it into the debris, knowing it would weaken him even more now that his Craft had manifested.

Robin followed him, trying to keep her balance over the uneven mounds of broken concrete and steel beams. A cloud of dust and smoke hung in the air, lingering above the smoldering ruins; both of them coughed as they were forced to breathe heavily of the choking grit. They stumbled out of the rubble and into the shade of a wooded area that lay behind Factory's facility. Amon collapsed on the grass, a fleeting sense of regret crossing his mind at showing such weakness. The hem of Robin's skirts rustled passed his half-closed eyes as she kneeled down beside him. They sat in silence, not speaking out of fear of solidifying the truth with words.

There were sirens wailing in the distance and Robin occasionally heard the calls of search crews as they began digging through the Factory's wreckage. She wondered if the other STN-J members had made it out alive. _They probably think we're dead… _As if in response to her thoughts, Amon lifted himself from the ground and glanced at her. _Amon… I never knew you were…_

Amon frowned slightly, narrowing his eyes. He stood up, brushing the leaves from his clothing and waited expectantly for her stand. "We need to get out of here. They'll be looking for us when they don't find our bodies in the rubble." They trudged through the woods, where Amon's black sedan was strategically parked in the trees' shadows, overlooking the Factory complex.

Climbing into the car and wondering how he'd known to park it there, Robin couldn't withhold her mounting curiosity any longer. "Amon. Why didn't you tell me you were a wi—", she started.

"Because it was none of your concern," he snapped. His usually cool demeanor had melted away for a moment and he struggled to maintain it, clinching his fists around the steering wheel.

Startled, Robin jumped a little at his retort and closed her eyes, recallring how he had used his newly awakened powers to shield them from the building that had been about to collapse on top of them. With Robin's Craft, she had been able to see the waves of power emanate from his body outward. It had been an amazing sight. _And to have that much control the first time he's used it..._

Amon revved the engine and drove them out of the woods and away from the scene. Robin stared out of the window and wondered if there was any safe place for them to go. She hoped so, for she tired of the Hunter's life. Killing other witches left a pit in her stomach that only grew more painful with time. _One shouldn't sin against her own kind, and I'm afraid there is not enough forgiveness on Earth or in Heaven for what I have done to so many of them._

They drove on for a while in silence and finally came to a stop at a small motel in a section of Tokyo that Robin didn't recognize. Amon stepped out of the car and waited on his partner to do the same. He inquired at the desk while Robin took in her surroundings. She was flipping through a tourists' guide when Amon approached her. "They have two rooms available, but I think it's best if we stay in the same room. It'll be safer that way." Robin nodded, avoiding the prying eyes of the old man at the desk. Again, Amon spoke with the elderly innkeeper, who took a key from a hook on the wall behind him and motioned for them to follow.

The room was small, but had everything they needed. At the moment, a bed was all Robin required. The old man left and Robin sank down to the closest bed, burying her head in its pillows. Amon stripped off his trench coat and holster, hanging them over the back of a chair. He sat down on the other bed, unbuttoning his overcoat. Robin rolled over on her side and peered at him. Watching him, she remembered that she was still in her dust-covered trench coat and dress. The thought of sleeping in such filth disgusted her and she grimaced. Without a second thought, she made her way to the shower.

Amon touched the cuts and bruises he'd received in the initial blast of Factory's explosion and listened to the drone of the shower and the occasional hum of Robin's voice. He judged his injuries to be insignificant. It seemed they both had come out of the destruction relatively unharmed. _But unharmed for how long?_ He was a witch now, or would be labeled one soon enough. If STN-J was still functional after Factory's collapse, he and Robin would be on the top of their list.

The fire-witch stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped in a hotel towel. She carried her soiled clothes in one arm and laid them out on a small armchair beside her bed. Amon quickly diverted his eyes before she caught him looking. Climbing into the bed, Robin pulled the covers over herself and took off the towel, which she tossed towards the armchair. She wrapped the blankets tightly around her body and turned back to Amon, who had just drawn his bed sheets up to his chest. He had his eyes closed and his hands folded over his stomach, yet Robin sensed he wasn't asleep. "Amon…" she began, glancing hesitantly at him.

He opened his eyes and shifted his head on his pillow to meet her gaze. "Hmm?"

She squirmed a little as his eyes met hers. "Amon… did you always know you were…?"

Amon's body stiffened. "My mother was a Seed and my father was a witch. It was inevitable, but I had hoped it would never happen." His tone of voice was terse and it was evident that he did not want to discuss matters further.

Robin frowned, but continued despite his manner. "I've always known about my powers, but there have been times when I wished I didn't have them," she confessed. "And now that I know how I got those powers, it's hard not to wish that I hadn't been born at all."

Amon was silent. He wasn't much for consoling people and really didn't know what to say to help her. There had been a time when he had also believed that she shouldn't be alive. Only a few hours ago, he'd told her he'd kill her before she became what she feared most.

Robin's gaze turned inward. She remembered when Amon had saved her, when Solomon's forces had stormed the STN-J headquarters to find the orbo and to hunt her. He had said that he couldn't hunt her, that he didn't think of her as a witch. He'd given her the slip of paper with Nagira's address and…he'd leaned in close to her. It was the first time she had been so close to him. An innocent but strange question popped into her mind. _Amon…were you going to kiss me then?_

_"Amon…were you going to kiss me then?" _Amon sat up suddenly and looked at her. He…had he read her thoughts just now? _Is this part of my power…?_ A wave of heat passed over his face, but he quickly smoothed his facial expression. He was silently grateful for the darkness of the room and Robin's habit of being a sound sleeper. His reply was a whisper in his own mind; a whisper, because he was suddenly irrationally terrified that Robin could read his thoughts. _I might have… I probably would have…if you didn't frighten me so much._


	2. Ch2 Regroup

**CAUTION:** Contains Spoilers! Read at your own risk. The anime and characters included in this fan-fiction are under the exclusive ownership of their creators and Bandai Entertainment.

**Ch.**** 2 - Regroup**

Despite all efforts, Robin tossed restlessly under the covers. Dreams, never-ending dreams, played as she tried in vain to get some sleep. Witches twisted in agony before her eyes, as angry, orange flames licked at their flesh. Flames that originated from the slightest spark in her mind. She awakened in a cold sweat, hands over her ears, trying to muffle the witches' echoing shrieks.

Amon was no longer in the room.

Robin didn't even need to look to know that he wasn't there; her senses were so heightened from stress and lack of sleep that she knew he was gone. The temperature of the room had dropped in his absence. The bed creaked as she wrapped the sheets around her and moved to search for him.

Amon re-entered the hotel room, fully clothed. Robin shivered slightly as the night air snuck in through the open door. She pulled the sheets more snugly around her as she met his eyes. His eyebrows were knitted together in contemplation, but over what, Robin could not discern. The look in his eyes unsettled her and she turned away. Somehow, Amon always succeeded in making her more uncomfortable, just when she thought she was finally beginning to understand him.

"We need to leave here." He seemed distracted and looked down at the orbo gun he held in his hand. The green liquid glowed eerily in the darkness and the question of why Amon was holding the gun gradually took hold of Robin's thoughts. With the fluid movements of experience, he replaced the orbo clip and put the gun back in its holster.

"Amon... What's wrong? Is… is someone hunting us?" Her voice was grave, but possessed a tinge of fear. Not waiting for his answer, she picked up her clothing and went to change in the restroom. When she returned, she peered around Amon to survey the parking lot. The body of a man was sprawled on the pavement, tell-tale traces of green orbo splattered on his chest. _A witch…or a Hunter?__ Have they already sent hunters after us?_

The door was closed abruptly, cutting off any further inspection of the scene. "Amon, maybe we should see Nagira. Maybe he can find out…" she began.

"Probably. For now, we shouldn't stay in one place for long." He hadn't moved from his position at the door; Robin sensed that he was becoming impatient with her.

She slipped on her gloves and retrieved her glasses from the bedside table. Amon reopened the door and they stepped outside, two witches moving soundlessly in the dead of night.

"We shouldn't stay in one place for long," he'd said. Robin's eyes refocused as she stared out of the car window. Amon was right. She knew that whatever became of STN-J, Solomon would still be hunting them. And the hunting would not cease until she and Amon were dead.

Amon cleared his throat. He flicked his eyes from the road ahead and back to Robin, then back to the road. He couldn't pin-point the feelings that Robin was stirring in him, which greatly annoyed him. In fact, many things about Robin annoyed him. He felt caught between protecting and fearing her. She could be so naïve, yet at the same time very wise. There were too many conflicting behaviors in her that he couldn't quite grasp. _Not that I'm trying to grasp them,_ he reassured himself.

And the voices in his head. When had he begun to hear them? A cacophony of sounds, tirelessly tearing at the fabric of his mind. He was going to have to shut them out somehow. It seemed those voices had always been present, but maybe he was imagining that. The one thing he did know is that he felt very torn. Torn between hunting witches and _being_ a witch. Could these contradictory feelings explain some of Robin's actions? It was a possibility, at least.

They had been on the road for what seemed like hours. Once, Robin had drifted off, but was rudely awakened by yet another dream, this one of her days at the convent in Italy, a time when the world was innocent and beautiful. Until she accidentally burned Sister Francesca's habit. She could still smell the stench of burning cloth and could hear the reprimands, felt the lashings and the coldness of the cell she had been confined to do penance in. A gasp escaped her mouth as she awakened and found Amon studying her with a strange expression on his face.

They were parked in front of Nagira's law office. A solitary light shone through an upstairs window. Someone was there, most likely Nagira. He had a tendency to stay up all night doing the work he had shunned off during the day, and working until morning on his cases only made Nagira more sluggish—much to Mika's disdain. Robin and Amon climbed out of the car, knowing that if a Hunter was on their trail, hiding the car wouldn't make much difference. Amon pressed the buzzer and spoke into the intercom, but Robin couldn't make out what he was saying. The door was quickly opened by an uncharacteristically frazzled Nagira and he hurriedly shooed them inside.

"What's been going on? I'm hearing all sorts of rumors about Factory collapsing and hunters prowling the streets." Nagira's face was slightly flushed as he pushed the door closed. "Several of the Seeds I've been protecting have turned up missing."

Robin clenched her fists at her side. Memories flooded her mind; a little brown-haired girl… a playground… a box of takoyaki… But she said nothing, hoping Amon would do the talking.

Nagira's eyes read the exhaustion on their faces and he sighed, fiddling with the bandage on his forehead. It seemed he'd escaped Factory fairly unscathed. "Come sit down. We'll talk about this over coffee." He saw Robin perk up, if only slightly. They trudged up the stairs and sat down heavily on stiff office couches. Nagira made them each a cup of coffee, which Amon didn't touch and Robin tried her best to nurse along. "Now, what's going on? Something tells me you two are involved in this."

Amon rubbed his temples absently, and finally replied. "As you know, Factory has been destroyed; it was Solomon and STN-J's doing."

Nagira nodded. "I was able to get out safely enough. I guess it was a good thing I had your car parked in the woods for you, eh?"

Amon's frown deepened in irritation. "We came here to see if you had any information about the other members of STN-J. Whether they're alive and if they have a mission from Solomon to hunt us."

"Yes, they are. All of them seemed to be relatively uninjured. But if you want more information, I only know what happens in the alleyways, not the offices of Solomon," Nagira scoffed. "You two were my only real ties to STN-J." He shrugged.

"Nagira-san, can we stay here until we can find out what is happening with Solomon?" Robin asked softly. "There's nowhere safe for us to go."

"With hunters on your tail, you wouldn't be any safer here than somewhere else… But, I'll see what I can manage. For tonight, or what's left of tonight, you can stay here." He smiled as Robin downed the rest of her coffee and he offered her another cup, which she refused.

Shaking her head, she said, "I'm tired. I'd better try to get some sleep." She shuffled off to the room that had been her home not so long ago.

Nagira watched her as she left. Then he turned to Amon. "Your powers are no longer dormant," he said, bluntly. Amon glared up at him, still massaging his temples. Nagira continued, unfazed by Amon's reaction. "I know a witch when I see one. Have you told Robin?"

"She knows."

"But to what extent does she know?" Nagira asked.

"Does it matter? It's not her concern." Amon's irritation was rising.

Nagira scratched his sideburns thoughtfully. "It's her concern if you are traveling together. It helps to know that you can trust your partner."

_"There was no 'comrade's-trust' between us."_ He'd said those words as he'd helped Robin escape from STN-J. That's how he'd justified hunting Kate to Robin and to himself. Now he was on the other side of the hunt, Kate and Robin's side. Did he need to trust anyone?


	3. Ch3 Recognition

**A/N:** Thanks to everyone who has read and/or reviewed the story so far. I hope I'm representing the series well and staying true to the characters, given the situations in which I've placed them. I want to wish a special thanks to Misora and VitaniFyreWolf, whose fan-fictions have completely blown me away. Their stories have given me the enthusiasm to continue my own. I'll try my best not to disappoint!

**CAUTION:** Contains Spoilers! Read at your own risk. The anime and characters included in this fan-fiction are under the exclusive ownership of their creators and Bandai Entertainment.

**Ch.**** 3 – Recognition**

Amon reclined on the office's couch, immersed in thought. The hunter's mood fit the darkness of the room perfectly; his arms were folded and his brow furrowed, as if to ward off anyone who would dare disturb his silent deliberation. Only the streetlamps and the occasional passing vehicle lit the room. Fleeting headlights glinted in his dark grey eyes, as if attempting to illuminate his mind with less disturbing thoughts. But the flicker in his eyes was hastily extinguished by his stubbornness to contemplate only the current situation and nothing else.

The conversation with Nagira had produced very little new information. All Amon's half-brother had been able to gather was that Seeds were vanishing and there had been a few sightings of foreign hunters in Tokyo since Factory's destruction. The exchange of intelligence had only furthered Amon's frustration. Not only could he no longer keep an iron grip on his emotions, he was being forced to ask outsiders for help. And Amon was not fond of people. There were few people that he willingly tolerated or trusted, most of whom worked for STN-J. The present circumstances would not allow him the convenience of contacting Michael. He couldn't trust those whom he had relied upon the previous day.

Even while working for Zaizen, he'd felt inclined to hunt alone. When Robin had appeared as Kate's replacement he was once again responsible to someone other than himself. Not one who was predisposed to baby-sitting fifteen-year-old craft-users, he'd shirked his new partner at every available chance. _No 'comrade's trust' again? Are you sure that isn't your fault?_ His internal voice mocked.

Ever since his Craft powers had emerged, Amon had been having trouble determining which thoughts were his own. His inner-world was in disarray, his thoughts a jumbled mess among those of invading, foreign voices. Yet, he was determined to handle this on his own, as he'd dealt with almost everything else in his life. Even Nagira, who had known Amon longer than anyone else, didn't know the whole truth. _And Touko had never really asked it of me_, he reflected. Though even if she'd asked, he probably wouldn't have told her anything either.

Touko. He hadn't thought about her for some time. It was perhaps for the best that he didn't think of her.

Their relationship had been one of silent understanding. Or that is what he told himself. No questions were ever really asked between them; it seemed to be an unspoken rule. The notion had occurred to Amon that perhaps Zaizen had sent Touko to keep tabs on him. She was, after all, his daughter. The cautious hunter had always held her arm's length. There was a well-fortified wall surrounding her emotions. Even their decision to end the relationship had been somewhat lacking in sentiment.

Why was he even allowing for such thoughts to traverse his mind? Giving a firm shake of his head to be rid of that train of thought, he went back to formulating a plan of action.

Morning crawled sluggishly through Robin's bedroom window. An overcast sky tinged everything a dull grey. _Days like this are made for sleeping-in_, Robin mused, eyes half-opened to the dim light sneaking into the room. But there was too much to do today to lie around in bed, no matter how much she would like to remain there. So, with concerted effort, she shuffled around and got dressed.

Coffee was percolating somewhere in the office. Its scent pervaded every room of the building as Robin searched for Amon, but he was nowhere to be found. Nagira offered her a cup, telling her that her partner had left earlier to gather information. Robin's downcast eyes voiced her dejection; after a few moments of silence, she declined the cup of coffee and asked to borrow the bicycle she used to ride to deliver paperwork to Nagira's clientele. He acquiesced and watched her leave, hoping she would be safe alone. Amon had not given him any instructions on what Robin should do in his absence, but Nagira was pretty sure that the hunter would be angered if anything happened to her.

The bicycle glided along on the sidewalk. Before she had lived in hiding at Nagira's office, she had rarely ridden one. She preferred her Vespa over any other form of transportation. Nuns didn't ride bicycles often at the convent she had served in; it had been considered unbefitting. And it was also very awkward, given the long, conservative habits she had worn. But the messenger outfit Robin had rediscovered this morning allowed for much more freedom of movement and she had learned to manage a bike quite well.

Robin wasn't entirely sure what she was seeking. Perhaps she just wanted to be on the move, to not feel obligated to wait for Amon to reappear. She was tired of him ditching her, making her feel either burdensome or completely useless. Something was going on behind those cold, grey eyes; she could sense it. He was hiding something. For him to have any expression break through his mask of neutrality was almost unthinkable. She'd never known him to be anything but a very measured man.

The world outside was as grey as her bedroom had been when she had first opened her eyes this morning. The dark clouds swarming overheard were swollen with rain. It looked as if it would start pouring any minute now. Robin decided she'd better find shelter and pedaled faster.

She cycled along at a swift pace, but came to an abrupt stop as a very familiar face appeared from the shadows of an alley.

Shock and fear drained the color from Robin's face. "Doujima?!?!?" The young witch's emerald eyes widened and she backed away slowly, distrustful of the other woman. A streak of blinding lightning sprang from the clouds above and the low rumble of thunder followed. The first warnings of an imminent downpour had been given.

Doujima smiled briefly and put a finger to her lips, then motioned for Robin to follow her into the alleyway. After a bout of hesitation, Robin trailed after her, bicycle in tow.

"Robin, it's so good to see you again!" Doujima whispered enthusiastically. But despite her fervent greeting, the blonde-haired hunter appeared extremely wary, possibly more so than Robin. The fire-witch eyed her in curiosity, wondering why the other woman was so jumpy. She noted that Doujima was dressed nicely as usual, but she had two new accessories: a sling and bandages for her right arm.

"Doujima, is everything all right?" she tried to ask in as calm a manner as possible. The blonde's apprehension was rubbing off on Robin despite her efforts to stay composed. The sky growled again and the first sprinkles began to fall sparsely to the ground.

"Mm? …Oh, you mean my arm?" Doujima shifted her immobilized arm, an expression of mild discomfort flickering across her face. "It's nothing. I sprained it trying to escape from Factory." Something was distracting Doujima, her blue eyes flitting around; Robin knew that the hunter would normally whine about such an injury, not just shrug it off. The two women inched a little further into the alleyway, hoping to find some shelter to escape the rain shower that was sure to come. "Are you and Amon… did you escape together? We searched for you, and Solomon couldn't find your bodies. Although they found Zaizen's…" Doujima's voice quavered strangely.

She knew Amon would be unhappy with her for doing so, but Robin answered anyway. "Yes, we escaped Factory together. We got out relatively unharmed." She knew better than to mention the manner of their escape, and it seemed Doujima was satisfied with Robin's response. "What about… What about the others? Are they all okay?" She was almost too afraid to ask.

"We all escaped safely. None of us is terribly injured, just shaken up. But, S-Sakaki…" Her voice trailed off.

"What about Sakaki?" Now Robin's heart was racing, afraid of what the answer might be.

Doujima shook her head, a mixture of emotions playing across her face. "We don't know where he is now. But… we know he's not dead."

Without warning, the rain suddenly began to pour down in sheets. The two women stood there for a moment, the rain slowing drenching their clothing; they had found no shelter in the alleyway. But the rain was the least of their worries.

Robin couldn't shake the sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. If Sakaki wasn't dead, then why was Doujima acting so upset?


	4. Ch4 Resolution

**CAUTION:** Contains Spoilers! Read at your own risk. The anime and characters included in this fan-fiction are under the exclusive ownership of their creators and Bandai Entertainment.

**Ch.**** 4 – Resolution**

Raindrops drummed in an odd, syncopated rhythm upon the roof of the black sedan and flowed in rivulets down the slopes of its windshield and windows. A pair of bottomless grey eyes peered through the driver's window, leveled on the two women huddled in the alley. Despite the deafening growl of thunder and the endless drone of rain, Amon knew of what they whispered in the shadows. He also felt their apprehension, for the very same feeling was slowing weaseling its way into his mind.

Through the ripples of water running down the glass, he saw Robin's head lift up, suddenly alert. When he attempted to reach into her mind once more, Amon was repelled by a violent force that rendered him motionless, thrusting him backwards into the leather car seat.

"Uuungh…" he groaned. A trembling hand flew to his forehead as a fierce ache drowned out all thought. After a few moments, he regained his composure, stealing a pained glance through splayed fingers at the two women. He found a pair of angry emerald eyes glaring out from the alleyway. Fortunately, the fierce gaze was not aimed at him.

Behind the drenched tendrils of tawny hair plastered to her brow, Robin's eyes flitted furiously about her surroundings. She sensed something, a presence somewhere nearby. Tiny hairs bristled on the back of her neck; her skin tingled at the perception. Solomon, Father Juliano in particular, had trained her to detect this type of Craft and she scrambled to remember how to protect herself in such a situation. Walling her mind against intrusion, her eyes probed the alleyway and streets in fury and panic. Livid flames flashed in her eyes as she dug in a deep messenger bag pocket for her glasses.

Doujima watched Robin's actions anxiously. Placing a shaky hand on the orbo gun at her hip, she tried to brace herself for a confrontation, but her azure eyes betrayed her contrived confidence. She wasn't sure what had sparked Robin's sudden reaction, but she trusted the witch's intuition more than her own. "Robin, what is it? Is someone here?" she whispered rapidly, glancing around the alleyway frantically.

"I'm not sure… Maybe it's my imagination," the girl replied, tossing aside a strand of wet copper hair that clung to her glasses, only to have it fall into her eyes again. Thankfully, the rain was dispersing somewhat, allowing for a slightly clearer view of their environment.

Both of the women noticed the black car in the same instant. Robin pursed her lips in a frown, her glare becoming considerably less lethal, as she recognized the familiar figure of Amon behind the wheel.

Doujima gasped when she saw him. She quickly, albeit awkwardly, put away her gun, and began to walk toward the vehicle. Robin put out an arm to stay her, in doubt as to how Amon might respond to meeting Doujima so soon; the blonde scoffed at being restrained, but stayed put.

Amon climbed nonchalantly out of the sedan, his mask of stoicism set firmly in place. He strolled over to the alleyway at a measured gate, undaunted by the wind and rain that thrashed the trench coat wildly about his body. His advance was cool, calm, and collected, as always. The women regarded his approach with unease. "Doujima. Robin…" He greeted them with a slight tilt of his head, his tone impersonal. Steel eyes fastened on each of them in turn, analyzing them, it seemed. Doujima stiffened instinctively as her name passed his lips. A few years of working with Amon had conditioned her well.

"Amon… Have you found out anything?" Robin, oblivious that it had been her partner's presence she had sensed, refrained from asking why he'd been spying on them; however disturbing, she knew that he had a talent for appearing out of thin air.

Amon didn't respond, only flicking his eyes from Robin to Doujima, implying that he'd rather not discuss such matters in front of someone he was disinclined to trust. Robin nodded, understanding his reluctance. She was not quick to put full faith in Doujima, either; the blonde hunter's credibility would have to be reassessed. "Doujima confirms that the other STN-J members survived Factory's destruction…"

He didn't try to feign gladness or surprise, just nodded curtly in reply. Robin detected a hint of distraction in his behavior, but said nothing. _Why don't I ever say anything that needs to be said?_ There were so many things, so many questions, feelings she wanted to communicate. But his expression always halted the words before they came tumbling out of her. Never had she felt so compelled to speak, only to find herself grappling for the words to lay her thoughts before him. And even if she did tell him all her fears, hopes, opinions, or asked all the burning questions that nagged at her mind, then what? He'd just brush her off, take her fumbling statements for a grain of salt. Maybe one day she would just say what she felt needed saying. But not today… Not in front of Doujima. Not under these circumstances.

Doujima, on the other hand, hung back, feeling the obvious tension between the other two. She hadn't been gifted, or cursed, with any powers; she possessed no Craft, unless being lethargic was considered a sign of the Craft. But even without such powers, the silence unsettled her. Deciding to break it, she spoke up. "Sakaki is missing, Amon. Miho and I haven't been able to track his movements, and Michael is unable to search for him. Kosaka is very concerned about Sakaki's whereabouts, and told us to find you and Robin as soon as possible."

Robin's eyes narrowed in confusion. In an almost accusatory tone, she said, "Michael? What happened to him? You said everyone was all right. And Kosaka… Why is Kosaka--?"

Amon cut her off. "Kosaka was second-in-command to Zaizen. He'd naturally become the leader of STN-J if something were to happen to his superior." He thought it wiser not to mention how Zaizen had met his fiery end, but glanced briefly at Robin, in whose downcast eyes he detected a hint of self-admonishment. Amon himself had rarely answered to Kosaka; the lead hunter's orders usually came directly from Zaizen. Orders to deter Solomon, to watch Robin, and then to hunt her.

The young witch blinked, surprised by Amon's ill-tempered response to her questions. "Well, what about Michael?" she inquired, her voice dropping to a whisper. Her down-turned eyes and folded, prayerful hands completed her appearance of penitence.

Doujima cleared her throat. "Michael bruised several ribs yesterday. He's in the hospital recuperating; he'll be out of commission for a few weeks, the doctor says." A dismal sigh escaped her lips. Doujima was apparently having to accept more of the workload than she desired to. "But even though his injuries aren't substantial, Solomon has cut off STN-J's access to their database."

Robin's eyes filled with sadness. _Poor Michael. The first time he is allowed outside in so long and now he's confined again._ A hand dropped heavily onto Robin's drooping shoulder, startling her. She peered up through damp tresses to find Amon looking down at her. It was only for an instant, but she detected a softening of his eyes.

But then the fleeting emotion in his eyes was gone, his hand quickly removed from her shoulder, as if nothing had happened. Amon was Amon again, his expression unreadable. He was talking to Doujima and Robin only half-heard the conversation. She was still trying to decipher the look he'd given her, the sudden breakdown of his barrier.

Amon regarded Doujima calmly as he spoke. "We hear rumors of hunters roaming the city. Foreign hunters."

"Yeah, Solomon has sent hunters because they think STN-J has been fallen apart. Since Zaizen is dead and Factory's destroyed, I guess that's as good an assumption as any for them to make. I've tried to make contact with them, but it seems they've cut me off entirely as well." She paused, and then lowered her voice, talking as if she were gossiping with her girlfriends and was afraid she'd get caught spreading rumors. "Miho thinks they may be after us as well, since we know so much."

The rain had at last slowed to a light drizzle. Amon considered Doujima's words as he wiped away some of the wet, black locks of hair that stuck to his face. He had worked briefly in Europe and was well aware of how other STN forces dealt with hunters who strayed from the rules. He knew Doujima had worked for Solomon; she had been, in fact, Solomon's agent within STN-J. Why would she be surprised at the organization's decision to eliminate them?

Regardless of what STN squad he'd been assigned to, he'd performed his duties with efficiency; it didn't matter what his objectives were. The use of orbo had unsettled him when he'd joined the STN-J team, but he'd adapted. Now, with the orbo supply gone, did Solomon want to replace the entire Japanese agency?

"And Sakaki? You said he was missing. Do you have any leads?" Amon asked. Kosaka wasn't the only one bothered by the rookie hunter's disappearance. Whatever happened to Haruto could very likely happen to the rest of them.

"Not really. Michael and he escaped together, but Sakaki disappeared soon after."

"So… How do you know he's missing?" Amon's voice retained the same calculated tone as before.

Doujima swallowed and her voice was strangely ragged as she spoke. "Solomon didn't find his body at Factory and…Karasuma and I saw him. Last night. We were on our way back from the hospital. He… Something's wrong with Sakaki. I don't know what happened to him, but something is definitely wrong."

"What happened?" Robin piped in, emerging from her musings to gaze at Doujima in curiosity.

"Well… He shot at us. As we were driving back to headquarters. And he was using the same bullets that Solomon had used when they hunted you, Robin. It doesn't make sense to me, but I'm worried. We really could use your help."

Solomon had gotten to Sakaki; Amon was certain of it. The witch-hunting organization was more than capable of doing such a thing, and had shown no previous qualms in turning hunters against one another. As in the case of Kate and Amon. Or Robin and Amon. If the whole of Solomon's forces were set against them, there was no hope left for survival if they were to attempt it alone. The two witches would have to join with STN-J to stay alive.

Robin shifted her gaze from the puddle at her feet to Amon. The rain had stopped at last. The sun began to shine through the thinning clouds, drying up some of the excess moisture. Amon's long black hair was beginning to dry; a few untamed strands flailed in the wind, brushing his cheeks, framing his face. He was very handsome in the growing light, handsome in an unkempt, wild sort of way. Such a dark person, so much knowledge kept buried behind those ancient grey eyes. Eyes that could silence one in an instant or compel one to speak.

Those same ancient eyes glanced under lowered lids at Robin. Her slender frame shivered in her drenched courier outfit. Raindrops glistened on her amber tresses, the sun refracting its light in each droplet and creating prisms, like jewels, in her hair. Amon felt a sudden, unexplainable urge to protect this girl. She was innocent, despite her Craft, despite having hunted witches. Despite even killing a few hunters. She hadn't asked for the burden which had been placed on her, but she accepted it gracefully. "_Hope_", her mother had called her. Could Amon let this hope be extinguished? Even not knowing what kind of hope she might bring?

Surprised at his own thoughts, he came to a conclusion. "There was a hunter who tried to attack me last night. A Craft-user. I'm sure there are more hunters on our trail. We have no other choice but to rejoin STN-J for now." Amon spoke, looking at Robin, but his tone suggested that he was trying to convince _himself_ that he was making the right decision.

Robin nodded. Doujima's pleas for help were enough for the young witch to decide to join forces with STN-J again, even if Amon had chosen against it. She knew they could not survive in opposition to a concentrated effort by Solomon. It would be suicide to even try.

In her mind's eye, Robin saw Amon raise his arms; a barrier enveloped him, similar to the rippling of air from a flame's heat.

Would he keep his Craft a secret from the others? Would he ever divulge the extent of his powers? He could no longer regard her powers with suspicion, for he himself had become a witch.


	5. Ch5 Reflection

**CAUTION:** Contains Spoilers! Read at your own risk. The anime and characters included in this fan-fiction are under the exclusive ownership of their creators and Bandai Entertainment.

**Ch.**** 5 – "Reflection"**

Fiery orange and crimson clouds bled across the expanse of the western horizon. Mirror-windowed skyscrapers reflected the Sun's flaming sphere as it plodded its gradual decent into nothingness. But until the blazing orb set behind Tokyo's steel and glass high-rises, the world would remain immersed in its benevolent, golden glow.

Jade eyes peered out from behind lowered eyelids as twilight slowly approached. Robin rested her pale forehead against the cool glass of the car window while Amon maneuvered the black sedan through rush-hour traffic. Neither of them spoke. Their decision had been made; to discuss matters further would do little to change their predicament.

They'd left it in Doujima's charge to deliver their answer to the rest of STN-J, but, regardless of the blonde's many objections, they did not return to headquarters with her. Instead, Amon explained as he placed Robin's messenger bike in the sedan's trunk, they were returning to Nagira's office. His young partner wondered why there was a need to see Amon's half-brother again. Hadn't they just decided against investigating on their own? Nevertheless, it would be useless to invite the man's annoyance by questioning his intentions.

After a seemingly endless drive through the busy city streets, Amon pulled the vehicle to an abrupt stop at the curb in front of the law-office. The partners climbed out of the car and pressed the buzzer to alert Nagira to their presence. Robin toyed with her glasses and waited silently by Amon's side for the door to open.

The heavy door creaked open, revealing an exhausted and irritable Mika. She pushed them inside and up the stairs, chastising them for their vanishing-act. Nagira did not appear concerned about their long absence in the least as he sat at his desk absent-mindedly checking his text-messages. Perhaps he'd left the job of worrying about the witches to his secretary as he'd done with almost everything else.

An hour later, Nagira observed while the former hunters assembled, stoically, on the office couch. With eyebrows raised in interest, he handed Robin a cup of coffee, which she accepted thankfully. Despite having changed out of her drenched courier outfit upon arrival at the office, she still felt soaked through and through. And something other than the cold rain shower had chilled her to the bone. She cupped the coffee mug in both hands and breathed in the comforting aroma, hoping the familiar warmth would melt away her reservations.

"Gather any new info?" Nagira asked, a lit cigarette wagging from between thin lips as he spoke. He propped his feet up on the coffee table before him and folded his large hands over his stomach, waiting patiently for a response.

Mika hissed as she walked by, smacking him on the head with a manila folder in passing. "Nagira, don't put your feet on the table! You'll get dirt all over it!" she scolded, threatening to bop him with the folder again. Nagira noticeably recoiled from the menacing secretary, removing his feet from the tabletop. "You have a meeting in thirty minutes with Mrs. Masuda, so make sure and look over her case-file again." The telephone rang and, pursing pouty red lips, she turned in a huff to answer it.

_Masuda_… A shiver traveled up Robin's spin as the name echoed in her mind, taking her mind off of the decision to return to STN-J, if only for a moment.

Amon's eyes followed Mika until she disappeared behind a cubicle wall. "Apparently, Solomon has dispatched hunters in the Tokyo area. Their opinion seems to be that STN-J has become ineffective against the witch population with the loss of Factory and the orbo supply. We have confirmed that much." He glanced at Robin momentarily, probing her mind for any reaction. "It also appears one of the STN-J hunters is currently MIA."

The fire-witch met his gaze, shifting uncomfortably as she swallowed a mouthful of coffee. She had not yet resigned herself to believing Sakaki had betrayed STN-J. To her recollection, the rookie hunter had never shown signs of being a Solomon sympathizer or operative. But, then again, neither had she.

Nagira nodded slowly. The information concurred with what he'd bribed out of his Walled City informant. "What about this missing hunter?" With Solomon's hunters prowling around Tokyo (and presumably attacking STN-J members), the two witches may have to hide elsewhere. Nagira was steadfast in his protection of the Seeds and witches under his supervision; he didn't want his half-brother and the girl compromising the safety of his clients. Amon and Robin were entirely capable of defending themselves.

"We don't have enough information yet to determine what happened to him, but we have an idea." Amon left it at that. As much as he trusted Nagira, he felt it was wise to keep the most sensitive intelligence close to the vest.

Robin sipped her coffee and considered the guiltless individuals whose lives had been manipulated or ruined by Solomon. Some of those people had become her friends; others had treated her like she was family. She would not forgive the murderers of innocent witches and Seeds. Yet, memories from a few months before appeared. Something the Inquisitor had hinted at in their last conversation. _"You seem to have finally awoken as well... The pleasures of using the Craft."_ Those words had disturbed her, had forced her to question her own motives over and over again. But now Solomon had shown its true nature. It no longer mattered what the Inquisitor or her grandfather thought of her actions. And even if the Church backed Solomon's directives, Robin would not yield in her fight to protect the countless innocents the organization threatened to eliminate.

An ash fell from Nagira's drooping cigarette to his shirt. He flinched as it seared a hole in the fabric and he frantically patted his chest to extinguish the tiny ember. Clearing his throat as Amon and Robin eyed him, he straightened and asked the question whose answer plagued Robin the most. "What are your plans now?"

A moment of silence passed until Robin looked up from the coffee swirling in her cup. Her emerald eyes held a hint of resignation, as if it were painful to speak the required response. "We are returning to STN-J, Nagira. Solomon is killing innocent witches and Seeds and we must put a stop to it," Robin explained quietly. She placed the coffee mug on the table and folded her slim hands in the rumpled, linen skirt of her black dress. Why should she be having second thoughts? She trusted Doujima and the others. And Amon would be with her.

Amon glanced from Robin to Nagira, adding, "We'll stay here for tonight and return to STN-J headquarters tomorrow morning."

The doorbell buzzed, followed quickly by Mika's exasperated voice complaining, "I swear, if it weren't for me, nothing would get done around here." A door swung open and slammed shut; after a moment it reopened and Nagira's secretary escorted a weary-eyed woman into the law-office. She hugged her purse to her chest, glancing anxiously about the room. "Mrs. Masuda, Mr. Nagira will see you right away," Mika said, casting an impatient look at her boss. Mrs. Masuda eyed Amon and Robin nervously for an instant and then followed the secretary into a small, private conference room.

_Masuda… Could she be…?_ Amon remembered clearly the heresy inquisition conducted by Cortion. He had witnessed other inquiries, but Masuda's response to the questions asked had been the most violent in recent memory. Masuda's Craft had been powerful. Powerful enough to pique Solomon's interest. _Was that why he wasn't on STN-J's list, because Solomon wanted to use him?_ It was plausible, given Solomon's manipulation of hunters and craft-users in the past. But, why was Nagira meeting with this woman? Amon turned to Robin, knowing that she recognized the name as well. The girl would undoubtedly be concerned about a connection, since she'd reduced Masuda to embers shortly after the inquisition. It had not been a pleasant experience for anyone involved, Amon recalled. He'd felt keenly enough the suffocating effects of Masuda's attempt to crush his body into oblivion.

"Robin," Amon murmured as Nagira left to attend to his client. Frightened green eyes met his. A liquid gleam shone from beneath her lowered lashes as she broke eye contact a brief second later. Setting his jaw, he stood up from the couch and offered an outstretched hand to the girl. It would be best if she didn't encounter Nagira's customer. Even if the woman had no connection to Masuda Shiro.

The fair-haired witch placed her slender, pallid hand hesitantly inside Amon's, her cheeks blushing faintly. She was suddenly profusely glad that he was here with her. She didn't expect any form of comfort from the brooding hunter, but just the cool touch of his hand was enough to steady her fraying nerves.

He gripped her hand firmly in his, careful not to squeeze too tightly. She had always seemed fragile and immature. Certainly not the type to be a hunter, even if she'd been bred precisely for that occupation. Despite having proven her worth in the hunt countless times, despite her strength in times of danger, it was hard to think of her as anything more than a child. Amon led her to the room she had claimed as her own, closing the door behind them. Perhaps it had been that very same youthfulness and naïveté that made him feel protective of her. Or maybe it was because now he was just like her, at least in Solomon's eyes. He was a witch and deserved the same fate as Robin, the same fate as all witches who openly displayed their Craft. It seemed only that they were delaying the inevitable, but neither Amon nor Robin was willing to give up so easily.

"Amon, is that woman…?" Robin's timid voice trailed off, her eyes glistening with mixed emotions. The thought of confronting someone close to one of the witches she'd hunted…no, it was too much to bear. How could she explain or justify her actions to Mrs. Masuda? Shaking her head, she pressed her back against one of the coarse, concrete walls of the room and slid down to the floor, pulling her knees up to her chin.

Amon leaned against the door, arms folded across his chest. He stared up through the window at the darkening sky, seeing the first stars as they peeked down at Earth from the vastness of space. "I don't know, Robin," he replied, continuing to pierce the heavens with a slate grey gaze. He could delve into Mrs. Masuda's mind if he tried, but his conscience prevented him from doing so. He found it odd that he couldn't bring himself to look into a complete stranger's mind, but he had often attempted to reach into Robin's. Why did it matter so much to him what the young witch was thinking?

Robin followed Amon's line of vision, glancing up at the growing darkness. She squinted at the stars, recognizing the familiar shape of Orion, her favorite constellation. The Great Hunter. Father Juliano had once explained to her the significance of Orion, though she could no longer recall his lecture on the subject. All she knew was that she desired to have the strength of the Hunter, to be able to withstand whatever trials may come to pass. Sighing, she looked down at the cement floor and began repeatedly tracing onto its rough surface with a thin finger the shape of an Ogham.

_Duir…_ Amon identified the rune quickly, years of training from Solomon kicking in. He had been somewhat of a skeptic in his early years as a hunter, brushing off the idea that witches could magnify their powers with such a simple act as writing a few symbols. But he'd later seen the effects of what just one rune could do. A sudden alarm at what Robin might be doing struck him. He strode over and knelt down beside her to observe her actions more closely.

The girl's face turned up to meet him as Amon took a seat next to her. She abruptly stopped drawing the rune when she saw his expression, glad that the shadows obscured the flush of embarrassment on her cheeks. Hesitantly, she opened her mouth to speak, but a finger flew to Amon's lips to silence her.

_A noise…_ Had it been his imagination? No, his senses were too well-tuned for him to be imagining the sound, he told himself.

_Thud…shuffle…thud…_ Again, there it was. The sound of feet walking on concrete. But where was it coming from?

An unspoken question emanated from Robin's widening eyes, but she continued to silently survey her partner. Amon appeared to be listening intently to something she couldn't hear, which further aroused her curiosity.

Then, as suddenly as Amon had been alerted to the noise, the skylight window shattered with a loud crack. Robin cried out as a shower of broken glass rained down to the floor and the two witches raised their arms to shield themselves from the falling shards.

Tiny fragments of glass bounced off of the trench coat Amon had pulled over their heads as a makeshift shelter. It was pitch black under the improvised refuge and he peered through the darkness, realizing he was centimeters from the girl's face. He could feel her breath on his cheek and hear her pounding heart.

He lingered there a moment. Two minutes. Listening for any additional noises, Amon slowly lowered the trench coat and backed away hesitantly.

All that remained were stillness and tension. There were no sounds but the unsteady breaths of Robin as she allowed her eyes to travel to the wall behind her.

There, scarcely two inches from her head with a thin trace of smoke still hovering around it, was a bullet hole.

It was an obvious warning. As clear as the bullet that now lay embedded in the cinder block wall.

They were being hunted.

**A/N:** In reference to my use of the Ogham "Duir" and the constellation of Orion in this chapter, I'll say that my knowledge is limited. Although I have done some previous research on Celtic, Greco-Roman, and Egyptian mythology, I am by no means an expert. My knowledge of Celtic customs/festivals is mostly restricted to having read several of Marion Zimmer-Bradley's books, so, needless to say, I had to do a bit of digging so that I could represent these aspects correctly. Of course, I have chosen them with somewhat of an ulterior motive, and I suppose it is only fair for me to give an explanation for each. The following should clarify their usage for those readers who may be confused.

_Orion—_the constellation of the Great Hunter. The Greek name for the same constellation that was called "the Stag" by Hindus, "the Strong One" by ancient Arabians, and "the Giant" by Hebrews. In ancient China, Orion was part of a larger constellation called "the White Tiger". The most common Greek myth about Orion is that he was a warrior who claimed that he could be defeated by no animal. The Greek Goddess of Earth, Gaea, sent Scorpius (the constellation Scorpio) to defeat Orion for his boastful statements. Scorpius stung Orion, defeating him, but in honor of the battle, they were both placed in the heavens at opposite ends of the sky so that they would never again encounter. Orion was also considered to be the constellation of the Egyptian and Phoenician Sun-gods. The name of Egypt's Sun-god was Amon-Ra.

_Duir_—the Ogham for "Oak". It resembles this: ╡. It is a sign of strength and endurance, and also the symbol that reveals truth in a very cruel manner. It bestows the power to overcome all tests. Oak trees were considered by the Celtic Druids to be sacred for their durability and strength, as well as many other reasons. The god of this Ogham is Lugh, the Celtic god of the Sun and of Light. Lugh is also the god of Thunder. Robin uses this symbol more so to comfort herself than to enhance her Craft.

I hope these explanations helped! :-) For the sources from which I gleaned this information, give me an e-mail. Apparently won't let me post the addresses in my story…either that, or something screwy is going on.


	6. Ch6 Return

**CAUTION:** Contains Spoilers! Read at your own risk. The anime and characters included in this fan-fiction are under the exclusive ownership of their creators and Bandai Entertainment.

**Ch.**** 6 – "Return"**

The waxing Moon's light pooled upon the concrete floor at Amon's feet. Broken glass crunched beneath his heavy boots as he stooped to examine the shining object that had drawn his attention from across the room.

_A bullet casing._

The cold metal cylinder gleamed forebodingly in the growing silver light. Amon picked it up, feeling the slight weight of its reality in his hand. He rolled it between his thumb and index finger, angling it so as to catch the moonlight. Runes were carved upon the shell, as he had suspected there would be. His frown deepened as he fixed his gaze upon the fire-witch who was now rising from her position on the floor and approaching him.

"Solomon…" The name came out slowly as if she was almost afraid to utter it, sensing that somehow those three syllables were the veritable nails in the coffin of her existence. With a slender hand, she gingerly plucked the casing from her partner's hand and squinted at the engraved characters. "It's the same as before, Amon," she confirmed, staring up at him pointedly, her pupils dilated in the darkness, their black circles threatening to swallow the emerald irises whole. Amon's scowl lessened a bit in meeting her eyes.

The doorknob turned slowly; a wary Nagira peered at them from behind the pistol he held at the ready. Evident relief passed over his face at finding them unharmed. "What happened here?" He surveyed the room, noting the broken window and its scattered remnants with a grimace as he lowered the gun. He was lucky that Mika had just gone home for the night. She would be furious in the morning.

"A hunter," Amon said plainly, his expression revealing nothing.

Robin's fingers curled around the spent shell, concealing it in her palm. The less Nagira knew about the attack, the safer he and his clients would be, she reminded herself.

More questions surfaced in Nagira's dark eyes, but he just laughed inwardly and brushed them off. He knew Amon wasn't the talkative type, why should he expect anything more? He'd always been too serious, too secretive. "Alright then, keep it to yourself if you must. Get your belongings together and return to STN-J. There's no point in you staying here any longer." With that, Nagira left the room, leaving them with a silence pregnant with apprehension.

Neon lights and shadowy figures streamed passed the windows of the black sedan. Tokyo's nightlife was out in full-force. Robin took in the sights as they flew by, wondering idly what it would be like to be one of the ignorant masses, to know nothing of witches or genetic experiments or secret organizations.

Amon concentrated on steering, paying little notice to the young woman in the passenger's seat. He did not want to remain out in public any longer than was necessary, in case they were being hunted. He'd been a fool to think they'd be safe at Nagira's, to think there was any place to hide from Solomon's ever-watchful eyes.

Robin blinked inquisitively as her partner braked on the side of an unfamiliar road. She blinked again when he exited the car and slammed the door shut. Climbing hesitantly out of the vehicle, she directed a curious stare at him. "Amon, where are we?"

The hunter didn't respond, just continued to walk quietly up the sidewalk. Was he trying to abandon her again, or was he just lost in thought? At last, Robin gave up and trotted after him, careful not to trip over her long skirts. She caught up with him on the front stoop of a tall, brick building. He proceeded through the door before him, Robin following him up a few flights of stairs and waiting by his side as he unlocked a garish, green door. Its hinges creaked in protest as Amon pushed it open. The scent of stale air drifted out from the dim rooms within as he crossed the threshold, and Robin trailed close behind, wrinkling her nose slightly at the dusty odor.

"What is this place?" It was difficult to make much of the few shapes her eyes could distinguish in the darkness as she shut the door.

"My apartment," he replied bluntly, turning on a table lamp and tossing his keys on the table. The light revealed an almost bare room. It hardly looked as if anyone lived there. And perhaps that was the case. It occurred to Robin that maybe Amon had been spending a bit too much time hunting.

"We'll stay here for the night and then meet with STN-J." He removed his trench coat and took a seat at a small desk in the corner of the room. He flipped open a laptop that lay on the desk, its glowing screen illuminating his face as his fingers occasionally tapped the keys.

She opened her mouth, but her response instantly died in her throat. Amon wanted to remain busy. He didn't like feeling helpless or being at the mercy of others. A sad half-smile played upon her lips as she listened to the clacking of the keyboard, the sounds of him trying to remain in control of the situation. "Good-night, then," Robin murmured as she went in search of a place to sleep.

Amon mumbled an incomprehensible reply, staring intently at the screen before him. He noted to the gradually fading sound of Robin's shoes shuffling off towards the bedroom and he sighed, allowing a wave of weariness to overtake him in her absence.

Why had he decided against returning to STN-J like Nagira had suggested? Why was he trying to delay the inevitable? His own questions tore at his mind, but there was only one answer for his actions. And he didn't want to admit to it.

Whatever his reasoning had been, he was not going to sleep this night. Someone had to stay awake and alert, and he'd wordlessly volunteered himself to be the watchman. Resigning himself to his task, he slumped forward in his chair, chin in one hand and the other typing on the laptop. Let Robin rest, let her believe they were safe for now. _She will need all of her strength to deal with what is to come_, he thought, his cold, grey eyes skimming once more over the information displayed on the laptop's screen. _S-Class Craft-user…Dispatched… __Italy__… Abilities: Classified._ Releasing another sigh of fatigue, he shut down the computer and sat in silence, pondering.

Gliding through the dark hallway, Robin found her way to the bedroom. After a few moments, her probing hands found a floor lamp and she switched it on, squinting in the sudden brightness. The light exposed another sparsely furnished room. The bed was neatly made, the sheets pulled taut over the mattress. It appeared that Amon seldom slept here. There weren't even indentations in the pillows. She took a seat precariously on the edge of the bed, unraveling the ribbons from her hair and humming quietly to herself. Her ginger locks were still damp from the rain shower earlier that day and a few strands clung to her neck while the rest fell in her face as she leaned down to remove her boots. At last, she slid down to the hardwood floor, kneeling and propping her elbows on the bed before her, bowed head resting against slim fingers laced in prayer.

Her voice was a faint murmur to Amon's ears and, almost against his will, he wandered from the desk, down the hallway to the entrance of the bedroom; he strained to hear the words, only able to discern a few. His proficiency in Latin had deteriorated as the years since his initial training at Solomon passed. But Robin's tongue rolled over the ancient language with ease, indicative of a life of practice, the hint of her Italian accent bestowing a musical rhythm upon the words.

_Dona nobis pacem __et salva nos a hostibus. Exaudi, Pie Jesu. In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti. Amen.___

Lifting her head, she rose from her knees and padded across the room to turn off the floor lamp. Remaining fully clothed and tugging at the tightly tucked blankets, she crawled into bed for a long-desired rest, unaware of the steely eyes transfixed on her.

Amon, her guardian, an unmoving silhouette amongst the shadows.

Harry's.

The restaurant was a welcome sight to Robin's eyes. A sigh of relief passed her lips as she stepped through the familiar entryway. Amon loomed behind her, analyzing every aspect of their surroundings, making a mental note of the face of each person dining inside as they strolled by.

She'd quietly requested that they stop at Master's establishment before they returned to STN-J, her jade eyes almost pleading with him. He'd indulged her, deciding that he would also like to speak with the bartender. At his answer, Robin's mood had visibly brightened, a soft, pleased smile turning up the corners of her mouth.

Master stood behind the bar, drying a scotch glass and chatting amicably with a group of customers. He glanced up, his eyes alight with pleasure as the two hunters approached. He subtly excused himself from the conversation and stepped out to greet the prodigal STN-J members.

Enveloping Robin in a gentle, paternal embrace, he welcomed them both back from their brief absence. "Robin-chan, Amon, it's so good to see you again." The skin around Master's eyes crinkled as he smiled kindly at them. "I see you are in good health after all that has happened. Would you like me to get you anything?"

Amon parted his lips to decline the offer, but Robin, beaming up at the bartender, was already asking for an espresso. With an undetectable shrug, the older hunter trailed behind the chattering pair. He settled himself on one of the barstools and half-listened to their conversation, signaling for his usual when Master glanced at him.

The potent aroma of straight bourbon wafted up from the glass Master placed before Amon. He watched the amber liquid swirl, his mind focused on thoughts of the Craft-user who would soon arrive from Italy to hunt them. He'd said nothing of the matter to Robin; it was better that she think they were safe from Solomon's attacks for the time-being. Better that she not be troubled by the notion that she and Amon had so little time left.

He would keep the worry for himself.

"Amon."

"Mm?" He flicked his steely gaze from his drink to Robin, snapping out of his concentration. The girl must have been attempting to get his attention for a while, for her expression held poorly disguised frustration.

"Master says there was a hunter here yesterday, someone from Solomon." She was studying his face for some sort of reaction, though fairly certain there would be none.

_Shit._

The black-haired man peered over the rim of his glass at her as he sipped his bourbon, a neutral mask concealing the stab of uncertainty he felt. Was the hunter from Italy already in Japan? Possibly. He wasn't sure how old the intelligence he'd intercepted the previous night was. His doubt was replaced by a fleeting spark of irritation. He wished that he could speak with Master privately, away from the prying eyes of the restaurant customers, away from Robin's inquiries. Amon downed the last of the burning alcohol, its harsh flavor sliding down his throat. He placing the empty glass on the bar with a dull thud and settled his darkening eyes on Master. "Is this true?" was his tactful response.

The barkeeper nodded imperceptibly. "He was asking a lot of questions about STN-J...and about Robin-chan." Noting how Amon's jaw muscles contracted at the utterance of her name, Master continued. "But he received no information from me. I sent him on his way thinking that I didn't even know how to mix a good drink," he said, winking.

"Where was he from?" Robin asked innocently.

"Ah, well, I'm not sure about that. He spoke Japanese well enough, but he had a European accent. Not so unlike yours, Robin-chan."

Robin's eyebrows shot up. "Italian?"

"Perhaps. I was a little careful about asking him too many personal questions. Some customers can be rather sensitive about their private lives," Master replied, his gaze resting on Amon, who was presently pulling a few yen from his wallet and placing them on the counter. The bartender shook his head, pushing the money back towards the hunter. "It's on the house. Consider it a welcome-back gift."

With farewells and promises to visit soon, the two witches departed. The STN-J members awaited their arrival and there was no delaying it further.

To Amon's chagrin, he found that the car wouldn't start. He turned the key in the ignition repeatedly, begging silently for the engine to rev, but to no avail

Robin remained outside of the car, leaning against the trunk and waiting for Amon to give up. Eventually he did, and they hailed a cab to drive them the short distance to the witch-hunting agency.

A brief ride brought them to their destination. Raven's Flat stood ominously before them, its cast-iron perimeter gates jutting up to the sky.

The first time she'd come to the STN-J headquarters she'd marveled at the structure. It had looked so different from what she'd imagined, its architecture distinctly European. Almost Gothic. An obvious Solomon influence. It was perhaps the only building in the whole of Japan that reminded her of home.

At the beginning of her stay, she'd been dubbed the "replacement". She was the untried Craft-user sent under the guise of filling the vacant spot of a fallen comrade. The STN-J members had eventually accepted her presence, slowly incorporating her into their missions. All, with the exception of Amon, had made an effort to treat her as a companion, an equal.

Now she possessed the enhanced Craft she'd been ordered to secretly investigate and Solomon had forsaken her. And Amon was with her. Whether he remained with her reluctantly or of his own will, she wasn't certain. Although, he could certainly leave her at any time.

Amon stepped towards the gate, impatient to meet the others. Robin took the hint and led the way to the entrance, waving hello to the gatekeeper, who was, as usual, reading a magazine.

_"Lucky color: Black."_ The words echoed in Amon's mind and his eyes narrowed at the heavyset man.

The guard unlocked the gate, smiling in greeting, his gaze resting decidedly on the young fire-witch. "They're expecting you," he confirmed with a short nod, the gate clanging solidly behind him. He watched as they vanished behind the closing elevator doors and then went back to reading his magazine, a smile still stretched across his face.

The two witches emerged from the elevator as its doors reopened a few moments later, revealing the familiar STN-J offices. A grave silence hung in the air. Robin found it odd not hearing the rapid tapping of keys and the muffled sounds of Michael's headphones. The very life seemed to have been sapped from the place.

Doujima and Miho turned in their chairs to observe the visitors. The blonde hunter tossed her older teammate a haughty look that could only be read as "I told you so" and advanced on them, a beaming smile gracing her face. Karasuma stood to welcome them as well, although somewhat more slowly than Yurika in doing so. Miho's scalp was heavily bandaged and she leaned unsteadily on her chair for support.

Robin's emerald eyes filled with compassion and relief at the sight. She was overwhelmingly happy to see that they had indeed survived. That, despite injury to their bodies as well as their spirits, they were determined to continue their fight. Tears threatened to spill down her cheeks, but with effort, she was able to blink them away.

Amon touched Robin's shoulder in reassurance. Seeing both Miho and Doujima again was encouraging, but they looked like they were in no shape to combat witches or hunters. Perhaps he'd made a mistake in his judgment, but he still possessed a loyalty to the STN-J members, a sense of responsibility to protect them and to fight at their side. "How is Michael doing?" he asked, his baritone voice breaking the silence.

"As well as can be expected, I suppose," Miho replied, sighing but attempting to smile. "It's gotten pretty boring around here without him and Haruto."

"Hmmph. Not only is it boring, now _I_ have to do all the work," said Doujima, her lips twisting in disgust.

_What a shame_, Amon thought dryly, the corners of his mouth twitching up minutely.

Miho smirked. "We're going to pick up Michael from the hospital in a few hours, so you won't have to 'do all the work' much longer, Yurika."

Doujima just rolled her eyes in response.

"And still no word on Sakaki?" Amon asked.

Both women shook their heads dismally, their cheerful mood quickly plummeting.

Amon, perceiving the sinking morale, found himself unable to say anything to boost their spirits. "Master tells us that a foreign hunter has been lurking around Harry's and asking about STN-J."

"Yes, he's told us the same thing." Miho held Amon's gaze, acknowledging the point she knew he was trying to make. "We know we won't be of much help to you, Amon, but we refuse to give up."

It was then that he noticed the absence of orbo necklaces around the hunters' necks. Had they, then, abandoned the use of the glowing, green liquid? Were they prepared to use "inhumane" measures during a hunt if it was required of them? Frowning in thought, he took a seat at one of the computer terminals in the office.

Meanwhile, Robin, having also seen the lack of orbo pendants, spoke with Karasuma and Doujima. "What happened to your orbo necklaces?"

The hunters exchanged looks of disgust at the mention of the substance. "I'll never use it again," said Miho, crossing her arms. "How could I, knowing what Factory was really doing to the witches _we_ sent there?" She shuddered at the memory. "It's hard to believe we had no idea about its origin. To think, we were trying to be _humane_ compared to Solomon's methods. It's sickening."

Doujima nodded in agreement. "The only reason we're still carrying orbo guns is that Kosaka has to get approval from the police for us to use regular firearms. He and Hattori are there now, speaking with the police chief."

"But… what about your Craft, Karasuma?" Robin glanced at Miho's hands and wondered why she was wearing gloves.

The older hunter's eyes closed for a moment, her expression appearing somewhat pained. "Without the orbo to suppress it, it's become stronger, very…distracting. More frequent. It seems I can't touch anything without scrying it now. It's been quite a while since I felt how powerful my Craft could be."

Amon glanced over at them from the computer terminal at which he'd been typing. He'd been trying to hack back into Solomon's database. He wasn't as talented at hacking as Michael, but he knew enough about Solomon's systems to get around undetected.

His calculating eyes caught one very small, very significant sentence amongst the various information he'd been able to gain access to.

He cleared his throat, drawing their attention.

"It looks like we have another Single-Eye on our hands," he said.

**A/N:** **Descriptions and Translations:**

Robin's Prayer:  
The snippet of prayer that Robin recites is taken from the song "Salva Nos" ("Save Us"), from the anime series "Noir", performed by Kaida Yuriko; the closing is the Signum Crucis (The Sign of the Cross).  
Translation:  
Grant us peace and save us from the enemy. Hear us, Merciful Jesus. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.


	7. Ch7 Research

**CAUTION:** Contains Spoilers! Read at your own risk. The anime and characters included in this fan-fiction are under the exclusive ownership of their creators and Bandai Entertainment.

**Ch.**** 7 – Research**

The hospital reeked of acrid chemicals and electricity. The very air buzzed with the low, persistent drone of machinery. As the hospital staff went about their rounds, their thick, rubber-soled shoes squeaked along the buffed linoleum floors. Everything was excessively bright: the starched nurses' uniforms, the fluorescent lighting, the bleached-white bed sheets. It was so clinical, so sterile.

As the STN-J hunters made their way to Michael's recovery room, Amon thought of how he'd always tried to avoid hospitals. Unfortunately, he'd found himself visiting them far too often in the past few months. They stirred feelings deep within him…helplessness…apprehension…insecurity. He did not care to recall from whence these troublesome feelings had come to disturb him. He preferred to focus on more current events, to suppress any thought that delved too far into his past. Thus, he returned his most recent memory of visiting a hospital. It was immediately after Zaizen gave the order to hunt Robin. Touko, Amon's former…she wasn't exactly a girlfriend or a lover, but neither had she just been a friend. Touko…the hapless victim and bait of Solomon's task force had been lying unconscious behind the cold glass of the observation window of a room in the intensive-care unit of the hospital, her shallow breaths fogging the oxygen mask she'd worn.

For Touko, for Robin…for all his inaction, he'd paid the price—humiliation at the hands of Zaizen. Every angry punch and kick had reminded Amon of his place and his duty. He'd deserved the beating…deserved every last well-polished oxford to the kidneys. He had never disobeyed orders to hunt before and, at the time, he couldn't understand why he'd done so. Even now he wasn't sure he was fully aware of why he'd done it. His steely eyes skimmed thoughtfully over Robin's profile, searching for some clue as to why she'd become important enough to defy Zaizen's command. But Amon knew the answer to that question without having to look at the girl.

Robin felt the weight of Amon's gaze on her; it was a bit unnerving. A brief sense of relief bubbled within her as they reached Michael's room and the raven-haired hunter finally stopped staring at her.

A pair of white-clad nurses scurried about the private hospital room, fussing over Michael and readying him for discharge. STN-J's hacker appeared a bit disheveled, having woken up only a short time prior to his fellow members' arrival. He swung his legs over the bedside, pushed his glasses back on the bridge of his nose, and smirked at his teammates in greeting.

"Michael, how are you feeling?" Karasuma smiled gently, her voice tinged with concern.

"A little sore, but ready to get out of here as soon as possible," he replied as he touched the left side of his ribcage tenderly and glanced at the nurses in mild irritation as they flitted about the room. Wincing, he lifted himself from the bed and planted his sneakered feet on the floor.

One of the nurses handed Amon a plastic bag containing Michael's belongings. "Make sure he gets plenty of rest and takes the medicine he's been prescribed." The black-haired hunter nodded curtly at the elderly nurse, handing the bag to Doujima, who glared at the back of his head the instant he turned away.

The other nurse rolled a squeaking wheelchair towards the group of hunters, motioning for Amon to help Michael into the chair. The hacker hobbled stiffly towards the wheelchair and Amon wrapped one of the teenager's spindly arms firmly around his neck as he lowered the hacker into the seat. Amon wheeled the young man out of the hospital, eventually arriving outside at Doujima's parked car. The older man's grey eyes caught the scatter of bullet-holes denting the car doors as he placed Michael in the vehicle's passenger seat. Closing the door and pushing the wheelchair towards Doujima, he turned to Karasuma, asking, "This is the car you were in when Sakaki shot at you?"

She nodded briefly, the mention of the rookie hunter's attack bringing a touch of sadness to her features. Her dark eyes followed Doujima as the blonde hunter unenthusiastically made her way inside the hospital again, pushing the wheelchair before her with a look of disdain on her face.

"Did you try to scry the bullet shells?" He asked, knowing with bitter certainty what her response would be. The bullets had been specifically designed to leave no trace of will, no hint as to the intentions of those who utilized them.

Miho's gaze drifted from Doujima's diminishing figure back to Amon's dark, discerning eyes. "Yes, but I couldn't read anything from them. It was like the last time-". She stopped, recalling how Robin had given Michael one of the witch-slaying bullet casings to research a few months before. "What are you thinking, Amon?"

The early afternoon sun above peered out from behind a patch of wispy, white cirrus clouds floating in the pale blue heavens. Amon squinted up at the sky, considering Miho's question as he watched the clouds skim lazily over the fiery orb. "Those bullets were outlawed by Solomon around six years ago. There are very few hunters who can obtain such ammo."

"You think perhaps Sakaki could have…? That he was an agent of Solomon?" Karasuma's brow furrowed. She did not like what Amon was insinuating and didn't want to believe such a thing could be true. But if Doujima had been one of Solomon's operatives, wasn't it possible that Sakaki was one as well? Even she had been tempted to betray Robin, to follow orders as she'd always done. And she had always been a hunter to go by the book, just as Amon had. She'd pledged herself as a loyal follower of Solomon's ancient dogma almost as soon as her inquiry was over and her life signed away.

Amon frowned and glanced at the young hacker who watched from behind the tinted car window, his keen jade eyes reading every word that passed his older teammates' lips. "We will need to talk to Michael first before I come to any conclusions. He's the last one to have seen Sakaki before he attacked you."

Robin climbed into the backseat of Doujima's car as Amon and Karasuma continued their discussion outside. "I'm glad to see you are safe, Michael."

Michael tore his eyes from Miho and Amon's conversation to meet her gaze and smiled faintly. "Me too. Sakaki and I barely got out in time."

The fire-witch's eyes filled with compassion, but quickly lit up. From a brown paper bag that sat beside her she withdrew a small box of donuts and a thermos of coffee. With a small smile, she held them up for the hacker to see. His own thin smile stretched into a grin as he accepted the box and proceeded to gobble up its contents.

After a moment of amicable silence, Robin spoke again. "Solomon has cut off our access to their database."

Michael replied, his voice muffled as he bit into his second donut. "I know. I tried to hack into it. Made some progress. I was able to find out that a hunter from Italy has been dispatched to Tokyo."

_So the hunter _is_ from __Italy__…_ "Master told us that a hunter was asking questions at Harry's yesterday. Did you find out anything else?" The lack of concrete facts regarding this new hunter was becoming more and more disconcerting.

"Not really. But it does seem that he wants us to know he's here. It's almost like Solomon let me hack into the system on purpose."

Mulling over his words, Robin watched Amon and Karasuma walk away towards Karasuma's car. It was a relief to be reunited with the other STN-J hunters, but being separated from Amon—after having been by his side constantly for two days straight—left a strange, hollow sensation in her stomach. Of course her partner would want to talk to the other STN-J agents, to those with more experience. But she couldn't help feeling abandoned. She had the sudden urge to run after him, to climb into Karasuma's black coupe so he couldn't desert her again.

Doujima returned from the hospital and opened the driver's side door. She dropped into her seat behind the wheel with an irritated sigh, tossing Michael's bag of belongings into the backseat beside Robin. "Off we go," she declared, revving the engine. They waited on Miho and Amon to get into Miho's car and then followed their lead back to Raven's Flat.

"There is a single-eye witch currently on the loose in Walled City," Amon began, taking in the varied expressions on the faces of his comrades. They sat in the conference room, its arrangement of computer monitors casting each STN-J member's face in an unnatural, blue-green glow. Regrettably, nothing more was displayed on the monitors than the definitive characteristics of a "single-eye witch" and vague information about the witch they were about to hunt.

Michael clacked away at his computer terminal, his eyes bouncing from line to line of the information that scrolled rapidly up its screen. "We had one of those witches several months ago. As I remember it, we didn't catch him."

"Do you think it's the same person, then?" Doujima propped her chin in her hands and watched Michael's fingers fly over his keyboard.

"No, most likely it isn't. Although, it is too early to dismiss any connection between the two cases," Amon answered, crossing his arms over his chest. "I was able to intercept information on this witch from Solomon's database, but we don't have his or her physical description or even a name yet. Michael is working on that as we speak."

"So we're supposed to hunt down some nameless, faceless witch in the maze of Walled City? Sounds…great," Doujima sneered.

Amon narrowed his eyes sharply, his response dripping with thinly-veiled annoyance. "Be quiet, Doujima. We're doing all that we can with the means available to us." But even as the words slipped passed his lips, he knew they weren't entirely true. If the STN-J was doing everything it could, they'd be patrolling Walled City right now. Though, with a hunter tracking them, it was suicide to wander through those slums without some damn good intelligence.

Robin glanced up from the monitor before her. "Michael, did Sakaki say anything after you escaped Factory? Anything that would help us understand why he attacked Doujima and Karasuma?"

The hacker abruptly stopped typing, his hands still hovering over the keys. "He didn't say anything much. I helped him out of the rubble and we met up with Nagira soon afterwards. We were both pretty bruised and battered, but I think he was in worse shape than I was. I lost track of him on the way to the ambulances." Michael peered at Robin over the rims of his orange-tinted glasses. "He seemed worried about you and Amon when no one could find you."

A touch of guilt caused her emerald eyes to break away from his gaze. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"It's all right. As long as you are both alive, it's all right," Karasuma replied, smiling kindly at the fire-witch from across the line of computer terminals.

Amon dredged through his memories, happening upon a strange, but plausible, conclusion. "This hunter… Michael, find out when he arrived in Japan, however you can," he ordered, turning his steely eyes to Doujima. "Doujima, when was the last time you spoke with your Solomon contacts? Did they tell you who was going to supervise Factory's infiltration?"

The blonde hunter's azure eyes widened slightly at the accusing tone of his voice. "The last time… The last time I talked to anyone from Solomon was after Factory collapsed. I told them to hold off on their plans to take over the facility because of the explosion. Now they've cut off all communication with me, just like they've done with STN-J." She frowned at Amon. "I know that Juliano was supposed to have supervised…although I never saw him there."

"Juliano?" Robin and Amon repeated in unison.

Doujima nodded. "I was told he was staying in Japan to oversee the operation, but I never received any real confirmation."

"Juliano is rarely ever alone," Robin remarked quietly. "He's almost always followed by a high-ranking Craft-user or two."

Amon quirked a dark eyebrow. "Do you know any of these Craft-users, Robin?"

The young witch blinked at her raven-haired partner. She tried to think back to her days in Italy, to the faces of Juliano's elite guardians. Yes, she'd known them, at least as well as anyone else in Solomon knew them. They'd all been S-class hunters, the highest ranking agents she'd ever known besides Juliano himself. Mysterious, dangerous, experienced witch hunters. She'd never been told the Craft with which each was endowed.

Her voice was hesitant as she responded to Amon's question. "I have met them before, but I do not know very much about them. They kept their powers a secret from everyone other than Juliano. They are S-class hunters and were rumored to be the most powerful in Solomon's organization. I think most of them were European."

"Were any of them Italian?"

Robin nodded slowly, aware of Amon's train of thought. "Yes, I believe there were at least two Italians. They traveled with Father Juliano the most often."

The witch hunters glanced at each other in thoughtful silence. Now they were getting somewhere.

The unexpected sound of a man clearing his throat came from the doorway of the conference room. The hunters turned to see Kosaka standing there, his stern eyes peering at them from under sharply slopping eyebrows. His hands were balled in fists at his sides and he fixed each of the STN-J members with a look of disapproval. Hattori, Kosaka's perpetual shadow, stood behind the STN-J chief and held a large box awkwardly in his arms.

"May I ask what is going on here?" Kosaka bellowed. Hattori shifted the box in his hands uncomfortably, glancing over Kosaka's shoulder at the hunters.

Amon stood up from his seat and met Kosaka's glare with one of his own. "We are attempting to determine the whereabouts of a single-eye witch. If we aren't permitted to use what little advantages are currently available to us to find the witch, what do you we propose we do?" His dark eyes bore into Kosaka's for a long moment until the STN-J chief looked away.

"I propose you take what weapons we've been supplied when you go on your hunt," Kosaka replied, motioning Hattori to bring the box forward. "The police chief has given us permission to use any means necessary to detain witches. I suggest you take him up on his offer."

The gatekeeper smiled as Amon and Robin stepped out from behind the elevator doors. "Mr. Amon, sir. Your car's been repaired. It was just the starter, nothing major," the portly man said, pointing a plump finger towards the parking garage. Amon nodded and strode towards the garage with Robin in pursuit.

A short while later, Robin fiddled with her headset, adjusting it in her ear for comfort as the sedan sped through the city streets. Karasuma and Doujima's voices faded in and out of frequency as their car traveled under the tunnel through which Robin and Amon had just passed. The fire-witch tapped the earpiece twice to turn off the receiver and glanced up at the outskirts of Walled City that loomed ahead. The decision to proceed with the hunt seemed premature to her. They still didn't have enough information to go on. So far, they were having to rely on out-dated maps of the slums and their own past experience to devise a plan of action. And no matter how skilled Michael was at hacking, he'd been unable to dig up any new information from Solomon's database. He'd promised to track their positions during the hunt and to forward any new intelligence as soon as he got his hands on it.

Amon maneuvered through the claustrophobic alleyways that wound themselves amongst the network of tenement buildings. Eventually he parked in front of a fence that blocked further travel and exited the vehicle. Robin followed suit, taking in their surroundings as she climbed out of the car. Amon's voice echoed in her earpiece as she tapped it on again. He was ordering Doujima and Karasuma to advance on the designated rendezvous-point from the North.

"We've exited Karasuma's vehicle, Amon. The GPS says our destination is 253 meters South-Southwest." Doujima's voice vibrated with static in the receiver of his headset.

Amon glanced at the small screen that displayed the GPS on his communicator. "Good. I've input your position. We're 216 meters due East of the target. See you there."

"Robin, let's go." Her partner's voice crackled in her earpiece as he spoke a few feet away from her. She nodded and arranged her glasses on her face before proceeding cautiously down a series of alleys.

The weight of the new, black .50 Desert Eagle was solid and reassuring in Amon's hand as he slid along the brick wall, staying a few feet behind Robin. The dark-haired hunter cocked the pistol as he rounded a corner and he aimed into the dimly lit alleyway before him.

_Nothing.___

He listened hard, trying to stifle the thousands of voices that were filling his mind at that particular moment. _Where are you?_ He knew someone was here. Someone who was hiding in the shadows, toying with him. Someone who was brushing his mind playfully and then darting back into the protection of Walled City's labyrinth.

Amon's headset burst with sudden static and he winced inwardly as Karasuma shouted that she and Doujima were having to back-track. "The map on my handheld shows an unblocked alleyway where we are now, but apparently that has changed. We'll be at the objective shortly, as soon as we find a way around this obstacle."

"Affirmative. We're proceeding as planned. We'll meet you there," Amon responded, cringing at the volume of the woman's voice through the earpiece.

He and Robin emerged from the passageway into a walled concrete courtyard. _A dead end_, Robin thought. Had they made a wrong turn somewhere? She glanced apprehensively at her partner, who pursed his lips and surveyed their surroundings.

The sky had grown noticeably darker since their arrival in the slums. Robin's emerald eyes tried to pierce the encroaching shadows. There didn't seem to be a way out of the enclosure besides the alleyway from which they'd come. They were surrounded on three sides by run-down apartments with every window boarded up. "Amon, we should head back and radio Karasuma and Doujima."

They turned towards the alley to leave, but stopped short.

Standing in the entryway, and barring their escape, was the silhouette of a young man. A _very familiar_ young man.

"_Sakaki…"_ Robin whispered in disbelief.

The man lifted his head, his features half-obscured in shadow. Shaggy brown hair fell over one eye as a slow, eerie grin spread across his face.


	8. Ch8 Reflex

**CAUTION:** Contains Spoilers! Read at your own risk. The anime and characters included in this fan-fiction are under the exclusive ownership of their creators and Bandai Entertainment.

**Ch.**** 8 – Reflex**

"Goddamnit!" Doujima's frustrated outburst bounced back and forth between the dilapidated brick walls that surrounded them.  
  
"Calm down. We'll find a way out of here soon enough," Karasuma said coolly, trying to placate her uncharacteristically over-zealous partner. She'd never seen Doujima show so much enthusiasm during a hunt before. Lord, the girl was beginning to act like Sakaki and it was grating on Miho's nerves. Well, at least Doujima wasn't accident-prone like the brunette rookie. If that were the case, Karasuma would have another problem to stack on top of how they were supposed get passed the wall that blocked their progress. Why Doujima had decided to suddenly show such devotion to the hunt was beyond Miho's comprehension at the moment. Better not to question it as long as Doujima remained interested... Nevertheless, they certainly needed to get to the rendezvous-point and standing in the darkening alley, staring dumbly at the walls, wasn't going to get them there any sooner. "Let's go back the way we came and try to figure out where we got turned around," she suggested, flipping open the handheld's screen to read the GPS yet again.  
  
"We've been going in circles for ten minutes, Karasuma. I'm beginning to think you're reading that thing upside-down," Doujima quipped, casting a side-long glance at Karasuma, whose eyes were fixed decidedly on the GPS map. Ignoring her partner's sarcasm, Miho made her way down the alleyway from which they'd originally come. Doujima rolled her eyes as she hastened after the brown-haired Scryer.  
  
They walked on in silence for five more minutes, turning a series of corners and picking their way around the massive amounts of garbage that whirled around in the stagnate breeze. Miho tapped her headset, trying to get better reception. Only the endless buzz of static came through the earpiece. She cursed inwardly at the damnable contraptions in her ear and palm and at the situation they'd found themselves in. Why had Amon bothered to include her and Doujima in this operation? They were both injured, both still reeling from the disappearance and betrayal of Sakaki. What was Amon thinking? He knew better than to rush into a hunt without proper planning. This was—for lack of a better definition—a suicide mission. She tapped the headset again to shut it off and glanced at the GPS tracker with a dismal sigh.  
  
Doujima asked the very question Karasuma was praying wouldn't be asked. "We're back where we started, aren't we?"  
  
Miho's grey-blue eyes stared blankly at the small screen of the handheld. The faint, pulsing blue light reflected in her eyes. "It would seem we are." The GPS map still showed an entryway where they stood, an entryway that would lead them to the target point a scant fifty meters away from their current position.  
  
"Maybe we should just try climbing this wall?" Holstering her gun, Doujima trailed the well-manicured fingers of her uninjured arm over the brittle brick wall before her, testing it for grip. If they could drag a garbage can over—and there were plenty of those around—maybe they could scale the wall and finally meet up with Amon and Robin. Wrinkling her nose at the rancid stench, Doujima dumped the contents of a large, sturdy plastic trash can onto the concrete and pulled it the short distance over to the wall, turning it bottom-up. She tested its strength, pressing her weight against it with her good arm. _Seems sturdy enough,_ she thought. "Karasuma, you go first."  
  
The older hunter eyed her partner suspiciously. She was not as quick to trust a garbage can to support her weight as Doujima was, no matter how sturdy it seemed. But what other options did they have? Somewhat reluctantly, Miho put away the communicator and stepped towards the trash bin. _I bet I'm just the picture of professionalism right now,_ she thought dryly as she crawled on top of the over-turned container and, wobbling dangerously, stood to grasp the brick wall for dear life. Relief surged beneath her weary and beleaguered features. "The other side doesn't look like a dead end," she reported to Doujima.  
  
"Good. Go on and climb over. I'll be right behind you." Doujima adjusted the bandage on her injured arm as she watched Karasuma's figure disappear over the horizon of the brick wall and heard the woman's high-heels scrape against the concrete ground on the other side. "Here goes nothing…" she whispered into the darkness, the lengthening shadows of the alley her only witnesses.

Why did he keep finding himself in these situations? Here he was, narrowed eyes glaring—yet again—down the cold, black barrel of his pistol at yet another one of his teammates. First Kate…then Robin…now Sakaki. Amon trained the handgun steadily on the shadowy figure of the man who blocked their exit.

Sakaki took a few lazy strides forward, hands stuffed nonchalantly in his coat pockets. The strange grin on his face only widened as he advanced and the veil of shadows dissipated from his face.

Amon's frown deepened, his steely grey eyes hardening with resolve to protect himself and Robin, whatever the cost. His hands gripped his weapon tighter, his leather gloves squeaking as he clenched the handle. "Stay back, Sakaki."

The rookie's mop of brown hair flopped in the breeze. Robin watched in horror as he continued forward despite Amon's warning. Through the dimness, she noticed something strange about Sakaki's eyes; they looked fogged-over, unseeing. His movements were sluggish, almost forced. He was not moving of his own power, it seemed.

Realization washed over her at what was happening. Disturbed, her emerald eyes darted back to Amon. "Amon, no!" she warned.

Amon squeezed the trigger slowly. He hadn't wanted it to come to this, but he held no reservations. Sakaki had betrayed them and Amon would be damned if he was going to let the boy go.

"No!" Robin's voice was louder this time, more commanding.

He cringed minutely as he pulled the trigger. The blast was deafening as its echo battered his eardrums. The bullet spiraled towards Sakaki, but melted in mid-air before it was even halfway to its target. Amon jerked his lethal gaze away from Haruto and leveled it on Robin. _What the hell does she think she's doing?_ Before he could fling a blistering reprimand in her direction, a blunt force knocked him to the ground and he skidded several feet, his face scraping on the concrete. A metal dumpster clanged to the ground beside him.

Robin's eyes widened and narrowed in the span of a second. A stream of flame flashed through the air, blocking a second trash can that was flying towards Amon. Robin could see the glazed over eyes, the dilated pupils. It was the look of someone drugged. Certainly this was not Sakaki's doing, though she was beginning to wonder if this telekinesis was his Craft.

Amon clambered to his feet, wiping blood from his cheek and shaking off the dull ache in his side. He kept a wary eye on Haruto. A rotten wooden crate hurled across the courtyard, only to be rendered to ashes by Robin's blaze. Why had the girl protected Sakaki? Why wouldn't she attack him when she had the chance? Couldn't she see that he was crazed with his new powers? Couldn't she see that he meant to _kill_ them? The questions tumbled in his mind so rapidly that he scarcely had time to contemplate one before another presented itself.

Spurts of fire continued to deflect the objects that Sakaki aimed at them. Beads of sweat dappled the young man's face; it was evident to Robin that he would not be able to fight them much longer. And that was exactly what she was hoping for. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Amon aiming his pistol again. "No, Amon. Don't shoot him," she commanded softly, raising a gloved hand to stay him.

Even as she spoke the words, Sakaki collapsed in a heap on the ground. His face was ashen and his breathing labored as he lay immobile on the dirty concrete. Robin stepped cautiously toward him and kneeled down at his side, watching his eyelids flutter and the clouded expression in his eyes disappear. Whoever had possessed Sakaki had lost their hold over him.

Amon lowered the gun stiffly and looked on as Robin removed one of her heavy black gloves, revealing a petite, ivory hand. Her slender fingers trailed over Sakaki's forehead, brushing aside the locks of brown hair that clung there. The boy's face looked content, serene; perhaps the first time Amon had ever seen it so. The raven-haired hunter continued observing in mild fascination Robin's uncanny ability to comfort the boy with a single touch.

A low, musical laugh resonated off of the brick tenement buildings. Robin and Amon glanced up from Sakaki's face in search of its source. From a rooftop a thickly-accented voice called out to them. They caught sight of the cloaked figure and stared up at him.

Amon quietly noted Robin's gasp as the moonlight revealed the witch's face.

"My poor puppet. How sad." The mocking, baritone laugh persisted through the heavy, putrid air. "Oh, well…we shall have to do this again soon, my friends. Until we meet again," the man said, his tone amused, playful. He bowed deeply and then melded into the indigo night sky. Robin and Amon found themselves powerless to stop him.

Amon scowled, wishing that he was in hot-pursuit of the witch rather than standing there helplessly while Robin wiped away the sweat from Sakaki's brow. Sighing, feeling impotent and frustrated by the fact that he had not foreseen such a conclusion, he asked, "Who was he?"

"Baldassare." The name fell heavily from her lips.

"One of Juliano's men?"

"Yes." Emerald eyes remained fixed on Sakaki's sallow face as a slim hand checked his temperature, then slid to his throat to count his pulse.

Footsteps pounded on the cement. Karasuma and Doujima emerged from the alleyway, guns drawn and questions flooding their eyes.

He lay, grumbling and recuperating, on the small couch in the STN-J break-lounge. A nearby clock ticked off the seconds, the coffee-pot percolated on the counter; the noises only further irritated Sakaki as he counted the ceiling tiles in boredom. _Out of commission again…_ He didn't know how long these injuries would put him out for and wasn't entirely sure how he'd managed to get so banged up. Hell, he didn't remember much of what had transpired in the last few days, just the vague but lingering memories of confusion and pain. But in contrast to his teammates, he wasn't even that concerned with what had happened to him. The fact that the others had left him to be baby-sat by Kosaka and Michael was more troublesome at the moment.

Aggravation got the better of him and he limped angrily to the office where Michael sat typing away at his keyboard, earphones blaring and feet tapping. "Michael," he shouted. Michael's eyes stayed glued to the flickering computer screen. "Hey, would you turn those things down?"

The headphones remained firmly in place, though the clacking of the keys halted. "You don't have to yell. I can hear you just fine." Michael's jade eyes held Sakaki's momentarily as the hacker's glasses migrated slowly down the bridge of his nose. He lifted a hand to push them back into place, signaling the end of the conversation.

Sakaki slumped into a chair, his face sullen. He loathed sitting around like this, waiting in the wings while the others got to have all the exhilaration, all the surges of adrenaline the hunt brought him. Over the three years he'd been in the STN-J, nothing had brought him more pleasure than the feel of blood thundering in his veins as he chased a witch to his or her demise. Even now, now that he knew what became of those witches he'd hunted down…had seen with his own eyes the bubbling vats with their hideous contents…even now, he was hungry, _greedy_ for the thrill of the hunt; it was just too addictive, too alluring. He could see the others were struggling to deal with their guilty consciences, trying as best they could to do their duty without using orbo. He'd chosen not to think too deeply on the subject; better to throw himself headfirst into his work than to sit back and contemplate the morality of it.

But being cooped up in the office left him nothing to do but think.

Robin nursed the cup of espresso, watching her reflection waver and warp in the liquid. Karasuma, Doujima, and Amon waited quietly for her answer. Harry's was empty, for the most part. Only a few tipsy customers slumped over the bar, their speech slurred as they argued their sobriety to Master while he dutifully phoned cabs for each of them.

The fire-witch's emerald eyes did not lift from the coffee. "Baldassare… He is the hunter who possessed Sakaki, one of Juliano's elite guard."

"And, evidently, our new Single-Eye." Amon added. "A very powerful one."

"He can use witches powers against their will…like Methuselah." She fell abruptly silent again.

"Can he jam radio frequencies as well?" Miho asked. She glared at the handheld that lay on the table next to her glass of ice water.

Doujima gave the older woman a sly look. "Oh, don't go blaming witches just because you don't know how to read the damned thing." She stopped for a moment, ice cubes clinking as she stirred her drink. "Wait a second. I thought single-eye witches had some sort of tell-tale scent. Remember the smell of fragrant olives from the first Single-Eye?"

Amon nodded, flicking his gaze from Doujima back to Robin. "I didn't smell anything but the garbage. It was probably disguised by that." Tentatively, he willed his mind to carefully probe hers. He certainly didn't want to alert her and experience the force of that mental-slap again. He shuffled lightly through the maze of her thoughts, but withdrew when he sensed her startle and clamp her mind shut. Those familiar green eyes caught Amon's slate-grey ones staring intently into hers. His eyes skipped back down to the tabletop to over-analyze the patterns of shadow that fell there.

Robin spoke calmly, measuring her words. "Baldassare had a partner back in Italy. Another of Juliano's bodyguards. If Juliano has issued the order to hunt, then he would send his finest agents, and Baldassare would not come here alone." Why Juliano would choose to hunt her now…she did not know. The last time she saw him, he had appeared to have decided against hunting her, was even almost remorseful for having ordered it. Something told her that he would not go back on those feelings, but there was no other explanation for Baldassare's actions.


End file.
